


Bold Move

by Leandra



Series: Leandra does The Merlin Fic Discord Server Melee of 2021 [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Arthur is smitten, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Fluff, Hot Boys with Bruises, M/M, Merlin is a Little Shit, Merlin is a Member of the Gay Straight Alliance, Modern Era, The Knights are supportive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28650513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leandra/pseuds/Leandra
Summary: Written for The Melee 2021 on the Merlin Fic Discord Server:Merlin is an active member of the Gay-Straight-Alliance and he's also too mouthy and brave for his own good.*-*Merlin Emrys, Arthur thinks, is the bravest bloke he knows.Not even Gwaine, who runs headlessly into battle on the rugby field, or Elyan, who determinedly stares down whoever crosses his path, can reach the pure, unadulterated courage of Merlin: Merlin with the crazy mop of hair and the very blue eyes and the quiet, but commanding voice, who wears low-slung jeans and statement t-shirts that have earned him a visit to the principal’s office more than once and who sports shiners so regularly, you might think it was an intrinsic part of his personal style.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Leandra does The Merlin Fic Discord Server Melee of 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099610
Comments: 30
Kudos: 215
Collections: The Melee Challenge





	Bold Move

**Author's Note:**

> So, my first Melee... thanks to the Merlin Fic Discord for hosting this, it was a blast! 
> 
> Many, many, many thanks and kisses to my wife, who betaed this very quickly and made herself late for her Sherlock fandom meet up. <3 I love you!

Merlin Emrys, Arthur thinks, is the bravest bloke he knows. 

Not even Gwaine, who runs headlessly into battle on the rugby field, or Elyan, who determinedly stares down whoever crosses his path, can reach the pure, unadulterated courage of Merlin: Merlin with the crazy mop of hair and the very blue eyes and the quiet, but commanding voice, who wears low-slung jeans and statement t-shirts that have earned him a visit to the principal’s office more than once and who sports shiners so regularly, you might think it was an intrinsic part of his personal style. 

Right now, he’s balancing up on his tip toes, putting up a poster in the school hallway advertising the next meeting of the Gay-Straight Alliance Club at school, a futile, Sisyphean work of activism. The poster is loud with all the colours of the rainbow, and Arthur knows it will be pulled down by one or the other of the students soon, left ripped and crumpled on the floor. The fruitlessness of his efforts hasn’t kept Merlin from pinning the posters up - again and again, in toilets, in hallways, on the bleakers, on the doors of classrooms. 

Arthur bites his lip and tries not to stare at the way Merlin’s shirt rises up to reveal a pale stretch of skin on his lower back as he walks past, but the visual makes him shiver and blush and crazily think of putting his mouth there - a press of lips just above the swell of Merlin’s arse. The skin looks so soft there, so tempting, and it makes him wonder with a hot, guilty flutter in the pit of his stomach if Merlin would like to be touched there just like that. 

He’s almost past when Merlin suddenly curses colourfully and darkly and a roll of duct tape falls from his fingers, rolling across the floor to come to a stop right in front of Arthur’s toe. 

Arthur stares at the duct tape roll for a moment before realising he should probably get it, bending down at the same time as Merlin dives for it with amazing dexterity. They bang heads, hard. 

“Ouch,” Merlin moans on a laugh and clutches his head, then sits down on his arse with a pained huff, his long legs sprawling out like a colt’s. “Damn.” 

“I’m sorry.” Arthur glances up from where he’s kneeling, thrown by how close Merlin’s face is. His blue eyes are intense and there’s a cut on the corner of his full lips, the skin around his mouth slightly bruised. Arthur finds himself staring again, wanting to soothe the discoloured wound, preferably with his tongue, and feels a blush rise on his face, travelling hotly up his neck, his cheeks burning. 

“Here,” he croaks out, holding out the retrieved duct tape for Merlin to take. Their fingers brush, and a spark of electricity jumps between them, causing Merlin to snatch back his hands, duct tape securely in hand. 

“Oh, wow,” he says softly, shaking out his fingers. “You’re pretty electrifying, Pendragon.” 

Arthur blushes more deeply, thinks that saying such things is the reason why Merlin gets hit all the time. When he looks up, there’s a small smile on Merlin’s face, tugging at the corners of his split lip, like he is aware that there’s no danger from Arthur. Or maybe Merlin just doesn’t care that he puts his foot into his mouth all the time and gets in trouble for it. 

“You should come to our meeting,” Merlin suddenly suggests, pressing a flyer into Arthur’s hands. “We’re watching “Milk” on Friday. Harvey Milk was …” 

“I know who Harvey Milk was,” Arthur mutters and slowly pushes himself up to his knees, slightly irked that Merlin felt the need to explain, strangely confused by Merlin’s offer. Arthur Pendragon isn’t anyone known as standing up for gay rights, certainly not someone who proclaimed their interest in joining a Pride-Club, nor someone who has made it public knowledge that he’s not entirely straight. 

He thinks about offering Merlin his hand to pull him up as well, but refrains from doing so, instead watching as Merlin rises slowly and brushes down his trousers, dusting them off. 

“Of course you do,” Merlin says slowly, his smile spreading, and it takes Arthur a couple of moments to remember what they had been talking about. For once, he’s still confused by Merlin’s presence - they haven’t shared more than a couple of sentences in class with each other, and apart from that, he wonders if Merlin noticed him watching or if maybe Merlin has a gaydar sniffing out other queers. 

“I have practice on Friday,” Arthur mumbles, trying to avoid Merlin’s eyes. They are still standing much too close. 

“It’s after practice.” Merlin looks expectant, like there’s no way Arthur could say no, and gazing at Merlin’s face with its slow, somewhat intimate smile, Arthur really has troubles denying him. 

“I’d be too tired, but thanks,” Arthur says and takes that crucial step back, out of Merlin’s personal space. 

Merlin purses his lips and nods, but he’s still smiling. “If you ever want to stop by, you know where to find us.” 

“Thanks,” Arthur mutters, but he doesn’t meet Merlin’s eyes when he backs away and walks off, imagining he can feel Merlin’s gaze prickling at the back of his neck all down the corridor. It’s as unsettling as it is exciting.

*-* 

On Friday after practice, he finds himself in the hallway leading to the media room and as much as he likes to tell himself it’s coincidental, he knows it isn’t, because he has been fretting over Merlin’s invitation every night for the last couple of days. Something itches under his skin, tingling like Merlin’s eyes are still on him, and the itch has gotten progressively worse throughout the week. 

He finds himself stopping in front of the closed door of the media room and quickly looks up and down the corridor, to make sure nobody is watching him standing around indecisively with his hair still damp and his hand awkwardly hovering over the door knob. 

There’s guffawing from inside and it startles him for a moment, and he blushes as he realises he’s straining his ears to pick out Merlin’s laughter among the chuckles and giggles. Arthur exhales softly and thinks of Merlin’s split lip and the way he stood up to Cenred today after maths, his eyes furious and expression hard, telling Cenred in sure words and with unparalleled self-confidence to stop bullying Gilly. He was also funny about it, his teasing words clearly a bit too layered with meaning for someone with an IQ as low as Cenred’s. 

Arthur twists the door knob, suppressing his nerves as he slowly pushes open the door a bit and slips inside. The media room is dark, the blinds all closed and up front, the big pull-out screen flickers with a movie from a pocket projector. Arthur takes a step into the darkness, unable to see much but dark shadows, and stumbles as he bangs into something or rather someone. 

“Sorry,” he hisses, reaching out his hands and feeling around in the darkness, his feet unsteadily tripping over unknown obstacles. There should be benches in the back, and he feels his way along the wall with his palms gliding along and carefully shuffles forward. Some people curse as he bumps into them and he’s glad when his eyes finally adjust to the darkness of the room. He moves forward more quickly, eager to reach the benches, when he steps on something soft and yielding. “Shit, sorry,” he mutters, but nobody is crying out in pain and suddenly his wrist is snatched as he’s yanked to the floor.

With a grunt, Arthur lands on something both soft and hard, sharp bones digging into his thigh. 

“Arthur?” Merlin’s voice asks softly, and Arthur huffs out a sigh of relief. 

“Yes,” he says, in an equally hushed tone. 

“Hey,” Merlin whispers warmly, and there’s a grin audible in his voice. In the semi-dark, all Arthur can see of him is the shape of his pale face and his glittering eyes, but the timbre of his voice takes Arthur’s breath away and he feels his heart stutter. 

“Hey.” His words come out hoarse and he clears his throat gently, nervously. Merlin’s fingers are still wrapped around his wrist and Arthur’s heart has kicked up again, suddenly beating much, much harder. 

“Sit down here,” Merlin breathes and scoots over on the bean bag he’s perched on, the one Arthur stepped on, and when Arthur does, the bag gives and they sink into it together, their sides touching, Merlin’s elbow digging into Arthur’s ribs. 

Merlin laughs and finally, finally lets go of Arthur’s wrist. His body is warm and all angles along Arthur’s side and the closeness sends frantic signals through Arthur’s confused body. 

“You smell good,” Merlin says and his hair tickles against the side of Arthur’s neck, like he’s been sniffing him. 

“Shower,” Arthur breathes out, trying not to shudder as his whole body sizes up. 

Merlin hums and pulls back, before pushing a crinkly pack into his hands. “Popcorn?” he asks. 

Arthur shifts carefully away from Merlin and reaches into the pack to get out some popcorn, his trembling hand spilling half of his handful into his lap. 

They watch the movie, but Arthur hardly registers what’s going on with how overwhelmed his body feels by Merlin’s closeness, by the way he’s quietly breathing next to him, laughing occasionally, then growing still and quiet as the story progresses. 

They eat popcorn, and when they both reach for the bag at the same time, their fingers tangle for a moment, brushing together. Sparks ripple up Arthur’s arm and his breath comes quick and fast and loud. 

Neither of them draws back for a long time. 

*-* 

“You’re off to the Shirtlifter’s Union again?” Gwaine asks casually as he bangs his locker shut after training. 

“Gwaine!” Arthur hisses, both at Gwaine’s careless words and the loudness of his voice. “It’s called the Gay-Straight Alliance,” he whispers furtively, “and also, they have great movies on Friday.” 

“Uh-huh,” Gwaine says with that little, disbelieving note to this tone, his eyebrows raised. “The last time I checked they also have that cute little spit-fire of a shirtlifter. You know the one, with the face and the mouth and the perpetually black eye.” 

“Don’t say that word again or you’ll have a black eye,” Arthur mumbles, and leans down to tie his shoelaces, turning his face downward in the hope Gwaine won’t notice the redness creeping into his cheeks. 

Gwaine guffaws out a laugh. “Hey, I get it. I mean, he’s hot and funny and courageous in a daft way and I might have entertained going for him once or twice myself, if it weren’t for the fact that he only has eyes for you.” 

Arthur jerks and fumbles with his shoelaces and looks up sharply, catching Gwaine’s wide and shit-eating grin. 

“Awww,” Gwaine says, like Arthur is a little puppy attempting little tricks and failing, “you didn’t know.” 

*-* 

“Word on the street is,” Percival announces as he puts his tray down on their usual table in the cafeteria, “Emrys ran into another fist.” 

“What else is new?” Elyan asks, shovelling another spoonful of mash into his mouth without really pausing. 

“He’s too mouthy for his own good. Can’t keep his trap shut,” Leon observes, but he’s looking at Arthur when he talks. 

It’s only then that Arthur realises that everybody at their lunch table is staring at him expectantly. “Uhmmm, yeah,” he stutters, blushing and pretending the food on his plate is more interesting than his friends’ sudden loaded silence. He can practically feel their collective attention and it makes him duck his head and hope the moment will pass soon and they’ll go back to their usual lunch talk of rugby strategy and girls.

“Jesus, Pendragon,” Gwaine sighs with annoyance and rakes a hand through his hair. “That’s your cue to go find him and make sure he doesn’t bleed out, or something…” 

There should be laughter and teasing following Gwaine’s words, but there isn’t. When Arthur raises his head from staring down at his plate, everyone at the table is still watching him, their faces strangely calm, void of any amusement, as if they are expecting him to take action. 

“Arthur,” Leon prompts softly, “go.” 

Arthur looks around at his friends, catching similarly encouraging and slightly exasperated looks from Elyan, Percival, Leon and Gwaine. A feeling sweeps through him right at that moment, a giant gratitude for these blokes who have his back, whether it’s out on the pitch or in any other kind of situation. Their gazes hold no judgment, just silent support and acceptance and he marvels about how well they know him. Apart from Gwaine, neither of them has said anything about the fact that he’s been mooning after Merlin like a love-sick puppy, but it’s clear from their reaction that they will stay by his side, and right now, they are daring him to make a decision. 

Arthur clears his throat and slowly pushes himself up from the table. 

“Valiant got him good near the biology classroom,” Percival says calmly, then cracks his knuckles. “Also, I heard Valiant has a black eye now himself.” 

Despite his worry for Merlin, Arthur feels his lips quirk up into a smile at Percival’s casual words and he gives his friend a nod, holding his eyes for a moment, before Percival nods as well, in acknowledgement. 

Arthur rushes off to Elyan, Gwaine and Leon congratulating Percival on a job well done.

*-* 

Arthur finds Merlin in the boy’s bathroom on the second floor, standing above the sink, washing blood off his face. The sink’s edge is smeared where Merlin’s bloody fingers hold the porcelain in a white-knuckled grip. When he turns towards Arthur, Arthur gets the whole miserable picture: There’s a gash over Merlin’s eyebrow, bleeding sluggishly and a raw bruise on his cheekbones. 

“Are you okay?” Arthur asks, wincing, skidding to a halt a couple of steps before he can reach Merlin. 

“Thanks to one of your Knights, yes,” Merlin says and licks his lips, sounding careless about it. 

“My Knights?” Arthur asks, confused, tilting his head as he tries to read the expression on Merlin’s face. 

Merlin frowns and quirks his lips at the same time, which makes it even more difficult to tell how he feels. “Yeah, your entourage,” he says, like Arthur is thick. “The blokes hanging around you 24/7.”

“I don’t have blokes hanging around me 24/7,” Arthur mutters, fidgeting, because he’s itching to reach out and touch the bruise high up on Merlin’s cheekbones. It looks painful, a bruise formed above another bruise. 

“I don’t need protection. Or someone to fight for me. I’m a pacifist,” Merlin says, before turning back towards the sink, opening the tabs to splash water against his face. 

“Here, let me,” Arthur says before he can help himself and reaches for the paper dispenser, pulling out a wad of paper and stepping up to dab it against the still bleeding cut on Merlin’s brow.

Merlin winces and recoils briefly, before he relaxes gradually, looking startled. His face is close, his hands are dangling awkwardly by his side, and his blue eyes are clear and bright in his pale face. When he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs. 

Arthur bites his lip and cleans him up gently, holding the wad of paper against the cut on Merlin’s brow until it stops bleeding. “You shouldn’t be so stupidly brave,” he murmurs, and his voice comes out low and a little bit hoarse. 

“You shouldn’t be so stupidly handsome,” Merlin replies, before his eyes grow wide as if he didn’t mean to say it. 

“Handsome?” Arthur asks, feeling the smile spread on his face, but Merlin just looks caught and weary and a blush rises on his face, darkening the skin and making him look almost feverish.

“Could you punch me on the other eye, if you have any intention of doing so?” Merlin blurts, gnawing at his lip. “For symmetries’ sake.” 

Arthur realises that yes, Merlin Emrys is the bravest bloke he knows. But he’s also the most gorgeous one, and looking at Merlin now, with Merlin glancing at him a bit worriedly, Arthur thinks that he, too, can show courage. 

He drops the wad of bloodied tissue paper and cups Merlin’s cheek instead, running his thumb over the darkened, banged up spot on his cheekbone. Merlin still isn’t saying anything, but he swallows and his tongue darts out to swipe across his bottom lip. 

Arthur feels like he ought to say something, but all the sentences he formulates in his head sound trite and foolish. In the end, he shoots caution to the wind and leans in, surprised when Merlin meets him half-way with a little huff of relief. Merlin’s lips are soft and warm and when Arthur deepens the kiss, licks across the seam of Merlin’s lips and dips his tongue inside, he tastes spicy and a little bit metallic. 

“Bold move, Pendragon,” Merlin whispers when their lips part, his hand fisting in the fabric of Arthur’s school jumper. 

“Was it?” Arthur asks. “Because I think I might be even more afraid going out there holding your hand. I mean, kissing you was kind of easy.”

Merlin sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and grins, an impish, broad thing of a grin. 

“I’m going to patch you up in return, if needs be,” Merlin suggests easily. 

“I expect you to kiss it better if anything happens,” Arthur suggests, surprised at his own daring. 

“Will do. As long as you don’t get hit for me to kiss you, that’d be kinky.” 

“Shut your cheeky gob, Merlin.” 

“I-” Merlin starts, obviously unable to let someone else keep the last word in a conversation. 

“Shut up, shut up,” Arthur mutters, twists his fingers in Merlin’s hair and does it for him. 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at <https://nuttersinc.tumblr.com/> or say hello in the comments or on any of the discord servers (I'm nuttersinc there!)


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